


Secrets

by isasolan



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arafinwean bias, Curiosity, Gen, Kinslaying, POV Child, Questions, Telerin bias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isasolan/pseuds/isasolan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Finduilas wants to know why the House of Arfin is not friends with the House of Fëanor. No one wants to tell her. Until she asks Aegnor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jubah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jubah/gifts).



> As usual, Shibboleth genealogy: Orodreth is a son of Angrod, not of Finarfin. 
> 
> Only Finrod is shown in friendly terms with Maedhros and Maglor in the narrative, and the text states there was friendship between their houses again _after_ the Sudden Flame. In my headcanon, once in Beleriand Angrod and Aegnor were willing to make an effort to forgive their cousins, but Caranthir's assholery after Doriath gave them little reason to.
> 
> Reposted from Tumblr at Jubah's suggestion.

She's been wanting to know for months now.

 

Ever since she started learning about the House of Finwë, Finduilas has had questions, questions and questions. Daddy sat down with her to walk her through the enormous family tree. She liked that. Daddy is always busy patrolling, and Mummy too, so most of her lessons she learns with her tutor. Except writing. Daddy taught her writing and reading on a rainy spring when it was unlikely there'd be an attack.

 

This time, Daddy had said, "I think I can spare a few nights to teach my daughter about her House." She cuddled on his lap and followed his finger on the fine parchment, his soft voice lulling her to sleep rather than to learning. "Darling, please," Daddy had said, sitting her upright, and Finduilas did her best to pay attention.

 

She may be twenty-seven but she isn't some silly child. She remembered Grandmother Edhellos full of flowers and Grandfather Angrod strong like a mountain. She remembered Daddy's Uncles, Aegnor with funny hair and Finrod kind and handsome. And she did remember Daddy's Aunt, too, even if she was very little when they met. A lady in a white armour, her golden hair tressed around her head, lifting her in her arms to look into her eyes. The most beautiful lady Finduilas ever saw. She writes letters from Doriath, where she lives with her silver husband. Long letters where she addresses Finduilas as if she were a grown-up. She likes those. She wishes The Lady wrote more often.

 

The rest of the family tree was unknown to her. King Fingolfin, Lalwen, Fingon, Turgon, Aredhel... But at least she has seen letters from them, addressed to her father. The King's handwriting is so beautiful she often wants to stare and stare at the missives, but Daddy does not let her. He says they are not meant for little girls. She looks at them anyway, when he and Mummy are on patrol. She does not understand half the words but the letters are long and beautiful, as if meant for writing the Other Language with its soft sounds that are like a song. Daddy said he would teach her that, too, when she turns thirty. She can't wait.

 

There was also the part of the tree that made Daddy sad, full of people who live far far away and whom they may never see. Daddy's granddaddy, Arfin, and his sister, and his mummy. All of them golden-haired, like Daddy and her. It makes her sad, too, but for different reasons than Daddy. Maybe because she'd like to meet more golden-haired ladies, and she can't. Why does The Lady stay in Doriath, she asks again and again. Daddy just smiles.

 

But then there was the part of tree about which she has the most questions. Grandfather Angrod's cousins. The sons of Feänor, their sigils all bearing a star. Why a star? Daddy's voice hardened when he spoke of them, and he glossed over their lands and their stories so quickly Finduilas was a little lost.

 

"They are not our friends," he told her when she wanted to know more.

 

"But why?" she insisted, and he had never said.

 

She asked Mummy about it, since Daddy wouldn't explain, but she'd said it was not her place to tell her. All that she told her was, "Daddy will explain when you're older. You're still very young, and it's a hard tale to bear. You might be frightened."

 

Finduilas had said, "I won't be scared. I'm brave like you and Daddy," but Mummy had sent her away to play.

 

There are no other children in the stronghold. Finduilas plays with her dolls alone, sings songs Daddy taught her alone, and dances in the watchmen tower alone. She asked her tutor why that was, and she said it was because of the war. Everyone is fighting a war in the stronghold. Finduilas wonders, sometimes, if Mummy and Daddy expect her to be a soldier when she grows up, just like them. She thinks she would like to, sometimes. Then they may all be together in the mountains, the three of them. And she is quite a good archer, for her age. But she would much rather do something else. Keep their chambers full of flowers for when they return. Tell the cook to make a warm soup for them. Crawl into bed with them and sing them songs to sleep when they are wearied.

 

*

 

She is sent to Grandfather Angrod for the midwinter, all the way in Dorthonion. He too has a stronghold, much larger than theirs. Massive, tall, safe. She loves it. It reminds her of him in every stone.

 

"Did you build this, Granddaddy? And this, and this?"

 

He holds her tight in his strong arms and kisses her cheeks again and again. "Yes, my baby flower, yes, and yes," he tells her, golden and fair.

 

Grandmother Edhellos is wonderful, too. She teaches her how to make flower garlands and flower crowns, and has a secret garden where trees bloom even in winter. Together they catch butterflies, and ladybugs, and Finduilas wishes she lived in Dorthonion. There are no children there, either, and they are also at war.

 

Granduncle Aegnor is the one fighting the war. The only one, in fact, she heard him say so himself on a morning that she was playing the corridor near Granddaddy's throne room. He said, "I'm the only one fighting this war, aren't I, brother? You would stay cozened up with your little family. Beware, soon you might turn like _him_ in his Southern caves!"

 

And Granddaddy said, in a harsh hiss Finduilas had never heard from him before, "Don't. Don't."

 

Aegnor is a bit scary, with his golden hair like flames. She avoids him, but he is never there anyway. "He is on patrol, my sweet," Grandmother tells her, but Mummy and Daddy go on patrols too and they never stay longer than a few days. Granduncle Aegnor is gone for weeks, returns to fight with Granddaddy in the throne room and then is gone again.

 

She had almost forgotten about the Sons of Feänor when a missive arrives bearing the star sigil. Her heart leaps when she sees this, maybe they will let her read it. Finduilas squirms in her chair, but no one notices. But Granddaddy doesn't even break the seal. He tosses the missive straight into the flames.

 

Finduilas gasps. "Don't you want to see what it says?" she cries.

 

Granddaddy looks startled, as if he'd forgotten she was there. "No," he says, unreadable. The letter charrs and turns into ashes quickly, and Finduilas is on the verge of tears.

 

"But why? Why do we hate them? Daddy won't say. What did they do?"

 

He has never looked so serious. She bites her lips not to cry. He sees that, and his eyes soften. He leans close to stroke her tresses. "My darling baby. You are too young to learn this yet. Just know that they bear ill will towards us. Your Daddy will explain when you are older."

 

Finduilas feels so angry. She screams, "I'm not too young! I'm not a baby!" and bolts up from the chair and out of Granddaddy's study.

 

She runs and runs in the long halls, the tears not letting her see. Why won't they say? Why can't she know? Granddaddy looked so angry when she screamed, she had time to see that. He will find her and make her apologise. Maybe even punish her. She does not want to say she is sorry. She is not. It's their fault. She only wants to know.

 

Finduilas realises she is lost when instead of the tall tower where the sentries watch the mountains she is entirely somewhere else. Dorthonion is larger than home. The hallways go in different directions. She stops before some large stone stairs that descend somewhere she has not been. She hesitates, looks over her shoulder. Maybe Granddaddy followed her. Maybe he is close. She takes a deep breath and hops down the stairs two at a time.

 

She pushes the wooden doors as hard as she can, and finds herself in the armouries. At home, Finduilas often slips in there to watch Mummy and Daddy get ready for battle, but theirs is tiny compared to those of Dorthonion. The room is enormous, and stretches deep into the stone where rows and rows of spears and swords and shields line up against the walls. All bearing Granddaddy's sigil. And in the middle of the room, Granduncle Aegnor, his hair roused up like never before,  his armour full of mud and a bandage on his arm soaked in red.

 

Finduilas freezes at the sight. He has returned. She did not know. She did not hear the horn.

 

"What are you doing down here?" he asks, stern, and his eyes aflame too. "This isn't a place for children."

 

"I'm not a child!" she says, her pride and temper stifling her fear.

 

"You shouldn't be here. Return your rooms at once."

 

She disobeys. Finduilas rarely disobeys, but she does not want to return to her room and never know. She steps closer to him. He frowns. He is so scary. Still, she asks, "The Sons of Fëanor. Do you know why we hate them?" She swallows when he does not answer. Maybe this was a bad idea. She takes a step back. "No one ever says why."

 

And then he laughs. Not a happy laugh. This angry, snarling laugh that makes her cringe and her knees go weak. "No, no one ever says, do they," he says, shaking his head. "We're supposed to have forgiven them. We're supposed to forget."

 

"To forget what?" Her throat is dry. It hurts to speak.

 

Aegnor is very tall. He has to bend to be at eye level. He smells of sweat and blood. Finduilas wants to close her eyes, but she holds his fiery gaze.

 

He says, "That they killed us. They killed our people. My mother's people, and ours. They drew their swords in Alqualondë and murdered the mariners. Do you know what that means, child? Eldar killing Eldar. Eldarin swords cutting through Eldarin flesh, and sending them to Mandos. The Sons of Fëanor and Fingolfin killed the Teleri and stole their ships to come to Beleriand. The waves were red with the blood of my mother's people, and they marched on!"

 

Finduilas screams. He spoke with such force that she sees, she sees it all before her eyes as if in a dream. The faces twisted with fury, swords sinking into bodies, and blood, scarlet blood flowing everywhere, staining the sand and the water in red. Her own hands seem bloodied. And the screams, she hears the screams too, the horror, the wails. She puts her hands over her ears, but the sounds do not stop.

 

Strong arms lift her off the ground where she is curled and envelop her close. She sobs. It's Grandfather Angrod, tense as he holds her against his chest. He is shouting. He says, "What is the matter with you? How could say it like that? How dare you speak like that to a child! To _my_ grandchild!"

 

Granduncle Aegnor moves so close she can feel the warmth of his breath over her hair. She whimpers and presses harder against Granddaddy.

 

"I don't know how to speak to children. This is a stronghold and I'm no child-minder. I'm a warrior. And so are you, or at least you should be!"

 

With his free arm, Granddaddy pushes Aegnor away. He pushes him! His brother stumbles back and Finduilas gasps. Angrod says, "If you ever speak to her like that again, I assure you, you will taste at once how much of a warrior I still am."

 

Aegnor laughs that ugly laugh. "You're going to fight me? You've never beaten me, Ango. What makes you think you would, soft as you've become while I guard our lands?"

 

Grandfather Angrod puts Finduilas down, gently, but then walks over to Aegnor with such force that she cowers and curls on the floor some more. She hears them arguing, but she does not understand what they say. They are fighting. Maybe they will kill each other too, Elda against Elda. She does not want to see.

 

"Stop this nonsense at once," Grandmother Edhellos says, like a breath of fresh air in the darkened armoury, and suddenly the noise and the visions stop. "You are frightening her, both of you!"

 

The room falls silent. She is slender and short, but she lifts Finduilas anyway, stroking her back as she walks out of the armoury and up the long stone stair. "Shh, my darling, shh," she whispers into her hair. Grandmummy takes her to the warm garden, and dries her tears and combs her hair. She gives her flowers to play with, but Finduilas does not touch them.

 

"Is Granddaddy killing Granduncle right now?" she whispers, worrying her dress. It will be her fault if he does. She should not have asked. The armoury covered in red blood, like the walls of Alqualondë. Because of her.

 

"No, my little one. We do not kill people here. And your grandfather loves his brother too much. They fight and then they become friends again. You mustn't worry about them, I promise."

 

"I didn't know," Finduilas says. "I just wanted to know."

 

"I know you did. We didn't hide it from you to be annoying. It was very hard for all of us. For your granddaddy, for your granduncle, for your daddy, and for me. We lost our friends that day. Aegnor hurts so much he cannot keep his anger down when he speaks of it. Some of us thinks he is right not to. But I do wish he had worded it differently. I wish you had not seen this brutality when you are still a little girl."

 

Finduilas thinks she is not little, but only half-heartedly. She climbs on Grandmummy's lap and closes her eyes.

 

"Not forgiving someone is righteous, but it also makes you very dark inside. Sometimes it is best to forgive," Grandmummy says. "Do not worry about the Sons of Fëanor. What they did is very far in the past now. We, us and them, have a greater war to wage against Morgoth. And your Mummy and Daddy, and your Granddaddy, and especially your Granduncle Aegnor will keep you safe. From anything you are afraid of. You mustn't be afraid."

 

"I won't," Finduilas whispers, but she still is.

 

*

 

She is old enough to stay awake for most of the night, but they put her to bed anyway. It's a strange room, made for a grown-up person of Dorthonion. Unlike her own room at home, bright and colourful with flower and toys. The covers are thick and heavy and they scratch on her arms. She sighs, and stares at the ceiling. Eldar killing Eldar. What if she sees it again when she dreams? She shouldn't have asked. She should have been a good girl, and waited like Daddy told her to. She bites her lip not to cry.

 

The door cracks open, very softly, but enough to startle her. She sits up on her bed, forgetting she is supposed to be asleep. It isn't dark. She can make out his silhouette against the soft light of the hallway candle. Granduncle Aegnor with his dreadful hair, peeking into her room. She sinks down into the covers at once, closing her eyes, and praying to Varda that he will think her asleep.

 

She hears footsteps, and then the bed shifts when he sits on the side of it. "I know you are awake," he says.

 

Finduilas closes her eyes harder. "I'm not," she whispers.

 

"Child, look at me."

 

She does not want to. But he sounds gentle, unlike before. She opens one eye. His arm is still bandaged, but no longer bloodied. And he combed his hair, a little. He looks sad. Finduilas lets out a shaky breath, and opens the other eye.

 

"I am sorry I frightened you, earlier."

 

She says nothing. Her throat is dry again.

 

"I'm not good at talking with little girls, you know. I only had one sister, and that was a very long time ago."

 

Finduilas thinks of The Lady. How odd to imagine she was a little girl once. "What was she like?" she asks, in a whisper.

 

Granduncle Aegnor laughs softly. Not like the laughter before. This one sounds almost like Daddy's. "A very annoying little sister. She was like another boy, really. We fought all the time. I used to pull on her hair to make her angry."

 

The Lady's hair, so marvellous! "Did you really?"

 

"Mmm," he says. "Only until she learnt to hit back."

 

His smile makes him look young. Younger than Daddy, even. Like the young soldiers back home, those who make toys for her sometimes. But he was so scary before. Finduilas sits up a little, unsure if she should be afraid. He does not move to stroke her, or to hug her in any way. He still looks like a soldier, even sitting on her bed.

 

"Your grandfather disagrees with me on this, but I believe if you are old enough to ask questions you are old enough to learn the truth," he says. "But you should have learnt this the proper way, from a book, or from your father. Not in the way I said it. And I regret that. I wanted you to know I regret it."

 

He stands. The bedding is wrinkled where he sat and he pulls at it to straighten it. He is going to leave, she realises. He only came to say that.

 

"Thank you," she whispers when he is on his way to the door.

 

He stops, returns to the side of the bed. " 'Thank you'? What for?"

 

"For thinking I'm old enough. You're… you're the only one who did."

 

He reaches as if to touch her, then stops in mid-gesture. Finduilas leans against the hand, her heart hammering. It is calloused, scarred. Worse than Daddy's. It trembles a little when he strokes her cheek.

 

"What if the Sons of Fëanor want to kill us too? What if they come here?" she says, quickly. At last she said it out loud.

 

"I will never let them." He sounds fierce again, but it does not scare her anymore. It is a soldier's voice. Like Daddy's. He leans down to look straight into her eyes. "I swear to you, Finduilas. I will never let anything or anyone harm you, as long as I live."

 

"I believe you," she says and then she feels so tired. She yawns, squirms down into the covers more. He fixes them around her, gently. For a hazy moment, she thinks he might kiss her brow, but he only strokes it with his thumb.

 

She dreams of fire that night, and she is not afraid.

 


End file.
